Let's Take A Walk
by purpleblogofsex
Summary: Lestrade and Molly get into an argument, and she leaves the vicinity disorientated and upset only to find herself in a bad neighborhood. MollyxLestrade.
1. Chapter 1

Just a quick little RP I had with someone on Omegle that I lost contact with. I was Molly. I would like to continue this, but I don't have anyone to play Lestrade, so... :/

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Let's Take A Walk

"...Can I go now?" Molly asked softly.

Greg looked at her with sadness in his eyes. "Oh. Yeah, I think we've got it from here. Thanks for your input."

Molly avoided his gaze and barely got a "thank you, Detective Inspector" out before hurrying to the door, tears slowly falling down her face.

Lestrade sighed as he watched her leave. She was so sweet, and it crushed him to know he had made her cry.

Clenching her fists and biting down on her bottom lip, Molly tried to keep the tears at bay, but they just couldn't seem to stop. How could she have been so clueless? Was every man who took interest in her only using her as a means to an end?

Greg stood there for about ten minutes before he could remember what he had come to do. When he did, it only made him feel more depressed. His wife... she meant almost nothing to him any more, but poor, sweet Molly.. It hurt him to know he would be leaving her. But if she didn't want him, his work was done.

Sherlock. Jim. Now even Lestrade. Maybe she should try John out, too. They were the only relatively constant men in her life, and they never seem to want Molly for _her._

Greg flagged down a cab and climbed in—his mind numb. He hoped his wife wasn't there. He needed to think.

Molly walked home—not in the mood to deal with a stranger's company—hoping the cool night air would calm her down. She had a lot of things to consider. Molly Hooper didn't have a lot of options in life, but she knew that, if needed, continuing to work at Bart's was not one of them...

When Lestrade arrived home, he gave the driver his tip and stumbled up the stairs before collapsing onto a chair. He didn't know what to do. He had hoped that Molly would at least show a little more concern, but had instead found himself once again let down. Did she even care? Did anyone? Did he? Did it even matter to him? Or maybe _her_? He tried to think but one young lady kept resurfacing. He was so confused.

"When did life get so complicated? I miss being simple, little Molly Hooper..." she whispered to herself. Checking the time at her watch, Molly began to figure out how long it would take her to get home. The troublesome thing about leaving in a huff is that one's actions are not always thought out properly. She didn't want to get caught in a bad neighborhood after dark.

Greg gave up on trying to expel his thoughts about Molly Hooper, and thought about their encounter earlier. What did he do wrong? Everything, obviously. He kept seeing her in his mind as she walked out the door crying. Then he realized that she had walked off. She never got into a cab—no one was there to pick her up. Had she walked home? He had a general idea of where Molly lived, and it wasn't the best of neighborhoods. He threw on his jacket and ran out the door.

Molly knew that when you're a woman in unfamiliar territory, you should walk confidently so not to attract negative attention, but how could she feel so confident when... Her mother said that it was best to ignore feelings like this; she should just push them away and get on with her life.

Greg ran out onto the street, quickly contemplating whether or not he should take a cab, but decided against it. He didn't know quite where she was (he barely knew where _he_ was) and didn't want to risk overlooking her. As if that could happen. Lestrade abandoned all dignity as he rushed down the street. He stumbled over the curb and fell, getting long grass stains on the knees of his nice pants.

She left at 4:30; she'd been walking for twenty minutes, and she was no where near home.

Greg was just turning the corner when he saw her. Good, she was safe. He slowed his pace to a fast walk and headed over to her.

Molly tensed when she heard someone approaching her. Reaching for her purse, she shoved a hand into it, looking for something to use as a weapon: keys, nail file—anything. Turning around swiftly, she pressed a hand to her chest in shock when she saw it was just Lestrade. "Oh, goodness, Detective Lestrade! You scared me so badly!"

He stopped abruptly and stepped back. "Sorry." He was still red in the face and puffing. God, this was embarrassing. "I just came to check on you..."

Eyes wide in surprise and mouth gaping a little, Molly flushed a bit at his concern. "Oh, well, you didn't have to do that. I'm almost home..."

Thoroughly embarrassed, Lestrade managed a: "So sorry. I just-well, see you later, I guess." Greg turned to go, disheartened and embarrassed. He didn't even get the chance to escort her home like a gentleman; instead he was walking away in a somewhat ruffled state, without chance to redeem himself. He'd had a chance and ruined it. Again. She always made him nervous..

God, why did she say that? Molly had at least another half hour's worth of walking to do, and a nail file was not going to cut protecting herself if she did get hassled by anybody. Torn between calling out to him and continuing on her own, Molly surprised herself by squeaking out a: "If you want, erm, you _could_ come over for tea... or something..."

Could she be giving him another chance? 'Oh Molly', he thought, 'you've saved me again.' He straightened his jacket and gave a faint smile. "That..would be lovely." He considers offering his arm to her but decides that would be silly and too expecting of him. It was enough to be with her.

Flushing a bit more, Molly stuttered out: "I, um, may have fibbed a bit when I say I was almost home. It will take at least another 30 minutes to get there from here... I hope you don't mind."

Actually, he was quite pleased. More walking time. That was always welcome. "Not at all. It's nice out tonight anyway."

Molly gave him a brief smile, forgetting about why she had ran out of the room crying. "I thought the night air would do me some good."

"It's..relaxing. Listen. are you okay?" 'AUGH, _idiot_', he thought to himself, 'of course she isn't okay. I was such a jerk—she's been crying—and on top of that, I've just startled her and brought it all up again.' Greg wondered how one person can be so stupid, and why it had to be him.

"I'm... I'm ok, really," she said with a halfhearted smile. Molly wasn't quite sure if this was a discussion she wanted to have again with the detective. Greg. His name is Greg. Why didn't she just call him that? Was this formality really necessary considering...

"Okay." He glanced at her and then continued to walk on in silence. Why couldn't he think of anything to say? He only ever thinks about her, about him being with her, and when opportunity struck, his mind was void of thought.

"I hope my place isn't too far away from yours; I would hate for you to pay a heavy cab fee for just a cup of tea!" Molly murmured, biting her lip. Spending time with her wasn't worth the amount of a five-minute taxi drive let alone a 30 minute to a full hour trip.

"Oh, it's not a problem at all. I don't live too far from where I met you.." 'Just for a cup of tea', she had said. 'Oh, how wrong you are", he thought. The truth was, he lived about a kilometer or so from where he had first spotted her, and in his rush he had forgotten to bring along his wallet. It was well worth it though. He smiled faintly. This was good, very good.

"Oh, alright then." She was still a bit unsure about how she felt about this; their argument from before was still unfinished, and... But that didn't matter right now. Maybe things would turn out differently. Giving him a shy smile, she said, "I hope you won't find my company too boring. I'm not used to talking; my companions are a bit on the silent side..." She bit her lip, hoping the detective wouldn't find her joke stupid or creepy. She had an odd sense of humor; not many people understood it...

Lestrade smiled. She was so perfect.


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry to those of you who got a bunch of email notifications about this chapter. I am not used to submitting stuff on here at all, and I'm just starting to learn how to and such Anyway, um, if you read this chapter _before_the editing of the format, I apologize. I didn't notice that it looked so bad until after I posted :/**

**CowMow took initiative and asked if she could help write, so we have a Lestrade! Yay! This story will continue! Yay! :) You guys should look her up her profile and thank her! :)**

**Anyway, if you like it, please review.. or something :3**

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Let's Take A Walk

Chapter Two

Lestrade smiled. She was so perfect. As soon as the thought flashed through his mind, a sigh escaped his lips. He wasn't perfect; he had the habit of (unintentionally) ruining everything he started. His marriage was a perfect example. He quickly glanced at Molly. The slightly pink hue of her blush became her very well. Almost an accident—but not quite—his hand brushed hers, sending tingles up in his arm. Molly jumped at the fleeting contact; she was so jittery—every nerve in her body was standing on end. A flash of courage overtook her, despite her nervousness, and she grabbed a hold of Lestrade's hand. "I, um, hope you don't think I'm being too.. bold.."

Greg stiffened at the touch, but after a deep breath he allowed himself to relax. "No, not at all Molly," he said warmly. He gratefully entwined his fingers through hers and reveled in the warmth her hand provided his. If he was honest with himself, he would admit he wanted to talk about what happened at the lab; he wanted to apologize for his incredibly stupid actions. But if he did, there might be the chance of ruining this moment. Why she grabbed his hand he did not know, so he didn't allow himself to cherish thoughts that ran deeper than simple friendship.

Pleased that he didn't mind, Molly flushed with slight nervousness but held onto him regardless. Maybe their little argument would be all for nothing; sometimes things worked out like that. "Well, Detective, should we get going..?"

"That will be a, erm, wonderful idea," Greg agreed. Pulling Molly closer to him to protect her from the rain that had begun to trickle down, he started walking into the direction Molly had been heading. After a somewhat tense silence, he cleared his throat nervously: "I love London, don't you?"

"I... appreciate it. It's so hectic and tragic—I've never really noticed it until now. I mean, yeah, I work in the morgue, but it's only been the past year that any of my patients have had an... affect on me. Knowing that Jim was behind their deaths—it's hard to deal with... Oh here I go again: ruining the mood. I'm sorry, Detective. I get very... maudlin at night." Molly's little smile drooped a bit when she mentioned Jim—she still hadn't gotten over being used like that. When she felt the rain pick up, she was glad that Lestrade had pulled her closer; he was a rather tall individual—like a human umbrella. At that thought Molly giggled a bit. "But, um, besides that, London is wonderful. I always wished that I had the time and money to travel though; I'm always so busy paying bills and working. I never have anytime for myself. What do you do for fun, Detective?"

Greg felt Molly's giggle—a pleasant feeling at his side. "Well, I know what you mean, Molls," he said. "I love London, but most of what I see of her are the dark alleys. A sane person would never venture there—they're constantly filled with garbage, corpses, and such." He could hit himself: talking about killing the mood... "Well," he continued, looking down at the light brunette beside him. "What do I do when I don't work...? I have a motorcycle, and I often try to read or watch movies... Surely you do have hobbies?" he asked, finding it hard to believe she didn't go out with friends and have fun.

"Well aside from playing with Toby—he's my cat! Such a clevercreature...—I usually watch Glee or... Oh, gosh, this is a bit embarrassing... I, uh, I started knitting recently; I'm not very good at it. All I can do is make the most awful little scarves for Toby. He doesn't... appreciate it much." She giggled a bit more, picturing her poor Tabby wrapped up in knitted, hole-ridden scarves. He really was quite precious.

"Glee? Isn't that the show where those American teens do covers of famous pop music?" Greg asked, picturing a scarfed cat doing karaoke and finding it a bit difficult to do so. "You'll have to show me Toby in a scarf one day," he said cheekily. After a short silence he added, "But surely you go out with friends after your shifts end at Bart's?"

"Well, you are coming over to my flat..." She said with a little grin. "So, I'm certain there is a chance you could see him. But, uh, I don't really have friends from work. It seems that my job is a bit, well, off-putting to a lot of the female staff—or maybe it's just me... And, erm, I'm a bit shy when it comes to men. You, John, and Sherlock are really my only male friends, but then again, you all work with the dead in your own way, so perhaps that is the reason.."

Greg tried very hard to suppress a grin. "I believe, Miss Hooper, that we have more in common than I originally thought." He squeezed her hand a little to reassure himself she was really here. "It's a shame I didn't bring my wallet; I would have taken you for a drink," Greg admitted, regretting his haste in leaving the house to search for Molly. "You know... just as friends," he quickly defended himself, not wanting to sound like he took pity on her—which in fact he did—but there was no need for her to know that. "John and I often do that when Sherlock has his fits of boredom." Ah... _Sherlock_. He always seemed to worm his way into Greg's life: at work, on outings with John, while walking this brilliant pathologist home—who had a crush on the man for goodness' sake...

At the Detective's insistence that going out would only happen as friends, Molly's spirit drooped a little. This man was so confusing...! He gave her so many mixed signals. The argument, the hand holding (she knew it was initiated by her, but he didn't say _no_... Unless that was because he felt bad for her...), the offer for drinks (as friends)—God, what was she doing here...? Stepping away from him and twirling in the rain, Molly gave him a small, white lie: "Don't you just love the rain? It's so... refreshing...!" She hated the rain—it left her nothing but sad—she preferred sunlight and warmth.

The moment she suddenly stepped away from him, Greg knew he had made another stupid mistake. If he wasn't careful he would scare her away. He continued walking and threw Molly a (hopefully) convincing grin that covered his insecurity over her leaving. He stuffed his hands deep in his trouser pockets; they felt cold when Molly's hand left his. When she twirled in front of him, stating she loved the rain, he simply couldn't resist. Softly he hummed: "Doolee do do, doolee do do do do..."

He grinned at Molly's face and suddenly burst out loudly into song—spreading his arms to catch as much rain as possible. His voice resonated against the buildings surrounding them as he enthusiastically sang, "I'm singin' in the rain—just singin' in the rain." Twirling like Molly,  
Greg continued. "What a glorious feeling: I'm happy again. I'm laughing at clouds—so dark up above..." His voice trailed off as the he wiped his soaked hair out of his face, water dripping from the ends of his hair. Greg extended his hand towards the soaking-wet pathologist. His eyes locked onto hers as he finished the first couplet, and a shy smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "The sun's in my heart, and I'm ready for love..."

Molly burst into full-on, embarrassed laughter; Lestrade did the silliest things sometimes...! Molly turned away from him slightly, her face was flushed red, but she couldn't help but peek at him regardless. He was... cute. And silly. And she liked him oh sooo much. With an equally shy smile, Molly took his hands and looked away from him; the lyrics were a bit forward, but they were just lyrics, right?

Greg entwined the fingers of his right hand with the cold fingers of her left and quickly glanced around him. There were a few pedestrians who dared to walk the streets at this time of night in the middle of the now pouring rain. A devilish grin spread across his face—lighting up his eyes. All of a sudden he pulled Molly flush against him and placed her right hand on his shoulder tenderly before he carefully placed his left hand on her back between the shoulder blades. He moved slowly, taking her with him, as he slow-danced on the middle of the street and sang, "Let the stormy clouds chase everyone from the place. Come on with the rain—I've a smile on my face. I walk down the lane with a happy refrain. Just singin', singin' in the rain." His words died away as he looked Molly in the eyes—her body cool against his. Her face was still flushed, and Greg couldn't help but let his eyes be  
drawn to her lips.

Molly squeaked when Lestrade pulled her to him, and she shivered at the close contact; the chill of her wet clothes pressed against her was the cause of the shiver. Yes... that was it. This wasn't something Molly thought she would be doing tonight after she got off work, although if she were honest, she never thought she would ever dance with the DI. Yet here she was: in the heart of London, three hours past midnight, dancing in the rain with Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade.

With his eyes still fixed on her lips, Greg leaned closer to Molly—just an inch or two from her face—his gaze shot up to her eyes, and as he leaned even closer, he whispered teasingly in her ear: "Do you like rain now? Never lie to a Detective Inspector, Miss Hooper." He winked and stepped away from her—his left hand left her back while his right still clutched hers. "Come, Molly, let's get you home." He had to admit that the rain didn't bother him very much—except for when it was in his face and hair. His leather jacket was waterproof, but when he looked at Molly he saw her trench-coat was thoroughly soaked. _She must be freezing_, his mind buzzed. Trying to make up for his words in the lab, he stopped and quickly unzipped his coat. He handed it over to Molly, saying: "You need it more than I do." Which was a lie; his light blue button down was soaked in a matter of seconds. Grinning at Molly, he dangled his coat in front of her eyes inviting her to accept it. He didn't know why he was so bold all of a sudden. Perhaps it was the rain, he had always loved the rain, and to be fairly honest, Molly's reactions were extremely satisfying. Oh, Molly, he sighed. If only...

Molly's heartbeat kicked up a gear as Greg's face loomed in close to her's. Was he going to kiss her..? Closing her eyes when his lips brushed against her ear as he whispered, Molly shivered and blushed when he winked at her. Goodness, that man, he always gave her these ridiculous, delicious shaky feelings that made her belly clench and her heart flutter. When he pulled away and offered her his coat, Molly couldn't help but smile. His politeness was refreshing; regardless of her previous thoughts from earlier that night, she knew she had made a good friend in Greg Lestrade. Sherlock, and what she thought she wanted, be damned, Greg was making a little niche in her heart.

"What do you think, Mol? Shall we take you home?" Greg said as he smiled down at her, wiping raindrops from his eyes. "I feel like a cuppa," he joked as soon as she had put on his worn leather coat. The pair of them walked on getting closer and closer to Molly's home. They had been chatting about things before he danced with her, and the present silence felt a bit edgy. He had loved the feeling of her in his arms, and that caused him to seriously consider asking her out on a proper date. He knew exactly where, but he was also aware that now wasn't the right time to ask. In his eyes, that caused the tension. He didn't want this relationship, or whatever this was, to be built on the wrong foundations. He cleared his throat nervously and asked softly, "Molly?" He grimaced—he was such a fool for what he was about to do. After all, it could destroy everything, but he understood it was for the best. He gently grabbed her upper arm and turned her to face him. "Molls, I'm so sorry for what I said to you—back at the lab. I shouldn't have said it, and I want you to know that I do like you very much—I appreciate your help with everything. It's just..." He groaned and covered his eyes with his right hand out of sheer frustration. "What I said was stupid and rude and completely unnecessary, and I hurt you and I don't want you to be hurt and..." Suddenly the DI was at a loss for words and just stared at Molly.

"I, uh..." Molly stared at Lestrade blankly for a moment. She was shocked he had brought it up, and at first she didn't know what to say. Squeezing his hand warmly, she gave him an affectionate smile before saying, "Thank you, Greg."


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey all! Sorry for not posting! I have been swamped with life! :c School and work have just been craaaaazzzyyyy! But Greg-mun and I are working on continuing this, I believe, so eventually there will be another chapter. Sorry for the delay :c**

**R&R~**

Let's Take A Walk

Chapter Three

"What I said was stupid and rude and completely unnecessary, and I hurt you and I don't want you to be hurt and..." Suddenly the DI was at a loss for words and just stared at Molly.  
"I, uh..." Molly stared at Lestrade blankly for a moment. She was shocked he had brought it up, and at first she didn't know what to say. Squeezing his hand warmly, she gave him an affectionate smile before saying, "Thank you, Greg."

Slowly Greg's mouth curled in a smile, and he felt some of the heavy burden of guilt leave his chest. Relieved, he exhaled and tightened his grip on Molly's hand. Without saying a thing, he started walking in the direction he thought her house was. "Are we almost there?" he asked. "I'm feeling a bit, erm, chilly." In fact, he was freezing. His pale, blue button-up was soaked and clung to his body like a second skin, and icey rain drops fell from his hair into his eyes. He shivered and felt the goose bumps rising.

Glancing around for any recognizable landmarks, Molly spotted one; they were a couple blocks away from her flat now. "Almost there... Greg," She said with a smile. Gesturing to his coat, she offered it back to him. "You can take it back, Detective. I'm fine, really."

"Oh, no," he said. "I am a healthy detective from the New Scotland Yard. I can handle a little bit of rain!" To prove his point he sneezed and sneezed again. "Honestly, I am fine." He grinned. They walked the rest of the way in comfortable silence. The streets were empty. The rain drops had had the street all to themselves and decided the Londoners they had chased away could return; it was time to leave. The grey pavement and the grey buildings around Molly and Greg had a dull shine, refelecting the moon into Molly's eyes. Greg chuckled slightly and shook his head; his mind was going strange places tonight.

"I think I can handle the chill better than you can, Greg, judging my your sneezing. Really, I insist." She began taking the coat off with the intent of returning it. Gregory smiled at the small pathologist, brought his hands up to her's and stilled them. Looking in her eyes, his couldn't help but soften.  
"If I am catching a cold already, I can imagine you would do the same without the coat." This didn't really seem to convince her, so he lowered his hands and stuck them in his sticky-wet trousers, trying to catch a minimum of warmth. "Besides, if I happen to fall ill, I'd need you to take care of me. It wouldn't do at all if we were both ill."  
He hunched his shoulders to suppress a shiver. "And we're almost there anyway. See? Three very convincing arguments." He grinned in his usual manner, showing his strong, white teeth and all, proud of his very satisfying answers.

"I, uh, I guess that is ok. We can get you warmed up in my flat. I have a couple of blankets to spare... Oh, umm..." Molly blushed a bit at her suggestion.

Greg bit his lower lip when he caught the double meaning, but judging by her blush, she hadn't meant it that way. "Good," he said, this time without a smile but honest gratitude tinged his words. "I think that might work very well." They had stopped walking, and Greg glanced up at the tall, dark building. "Is this your place?"

Nodding, Molly made her way up the steps and opened the door, holding it open for Lestrade. "I'm the third down on the right. Here are the keys; I'm going to check my mail quickly..." Slipping them into Greg's hands, Molly walked in and went to the left slightly, where a row of mailboxes stood.

Greg looked at the cold keys in his hand and glanced at Molly's leather-covered back. His coat. When she returned it to him it would undoubtly smell of her. He smiled at her without being noticed and walked to his right. He counted the doors and halted in front of door numbered three. It was a door like all the others. Grey, unfeeling, and cold—so unlike his own house. Well, that was his ex-wife's doing. She took care of the plants, flowers, and paint. He sighed and stuck the key in the hole and turned it. Pushing the door open carefully, he entered the flat. It was dark, but when he found the light switch and turned it, he smiled. He dropped the keys on a small side table and entered the living room. Suddenly feeling really cold, Greg couldn't stop the clattering of his teeth. He shivered and sneezed. _Oh dear, this was not good._

Walking in behind him and closing the door, she set the mail on the table top and took off his coat. "There are blankets in the hallway closet, Greg. I'll get some tea going—maybe that will help warm us up!"

"Ah, tea... Th-that might b-be nice..." he said, sniffing and rubbing his hands together to get warm. "Blankets.. That's ni-nice too." Greg quickly grabbed the blankets from the spot Molly indicated and wrapped himself in one, relishing in the warmth it provided almost immediately. He took another blanket and walked over to the kitchen where Molly was busy making tea. He gently wrapped the blanket around her small shoulders from behind without a warning.

Molly jumped at the sudden contact but turned to him, smiling. "Thank you, Greg. You didn't need to get me one; I'm fine. It was a bit nippy, but I do a lot of walking—I'm a bit used to it. The tea will be ready in a bit. Um, the telly is in the sitting room, and I have some playing cards around here somewhere—in case you get bored."

"Thank you Molly," Greg answered as he lifted his hands from her shoulders. "I was wondering... Do you have some towels for me? I am no doctor, but I do think I should get out of these wet clothes, preferable sooner than later." He scrathed the back of his head nervously. "If you don't mind, that is!" he added hastily. "But, erm... My shirt is clammy, and I am really cold, so..."  
He pursed his lips and smiled at Molly. He was glad she was not cold, at least his jacket had prevented that from happening. Silently he thanked his mother she had given him good lessons on how to behave like a gentleman. _Not that he had been a gentleman this evening—_and here his train of thought ended. That was why he was there; he had been so rude. He looked down at Molly and gazed into her brown eyes. He suddenly had to repress the urge to cup her cheek with his hands and bring their faces together. Weird. He never had that feeling before.

"Oh, yes, I do! I'll get them if you don't mind watching the tea...? They're in the bedroom, and, well, my room is a mess, and I wouldn't want you to see that..." Molly mumbled off embarrassingly, backing away. She didn't wait for an answer from him; she figured he would just do what she asked if she left. When she got to her room and opened the door, she started picking up the dirty clothes that were strewn across the floor. She usually was pretty clean, but work had been stressful—and why was she making excuses. It's like no one ever came to her flat—let alone her room! Giggling at herself a bit, she whispered chastisingly. "Calm down, Molly...! He's just a man... in your flat. In _your_ flat. Oh my good... _ness_..!" She walked across to the bathroom and raided a couple of towels from the closet, hoping he wouldn't mind that they were a pretty, deep pink. It was a nice color, but most people seemed to not appreciate it as much as her.

Greg watched her retreat, not even having the time to make a reply. Women and the urge to keep things clean—or rather the urge to want to appear neat. He chuckled to himself: she should see his house. He walked over to the kitchen and observed the kettle as it boiled. When it whistled, he quickly made tea and poured some in two mugs he found in the cupboard. As his cold fingers touched the mugs, he shivered again. He had to get rid of his shirt—and soon too. He didn't want to catch pneumonia. And if he did, well, he wanted to be at home.  
Greg carried the two mugs to the living room and placed one on the small table. His fingers curled around the other one as he patiently waited for Molly to bring him a towel. He snuggled deeper in the blankets. They were comfortably warm, and Greg had to take care that he didn't doze off.

Molly hurried out of the room, towels in hand, and found Greg perched on her couch shivering away. "If you want, Greg, I could turn the heater on..." She handed the towels to him and worried her bottom lip with her teeth. She should've taken a cab; he wouldn't be in this position if she had...

"Thank you," Greg said as she handed him the alarmingly pink towels. He motioned at his drenched shirt. "Do you mind if I... You know.. Get this off? I'm freezing here," he added for clarification.

"No, no, I, uh, don't mind. Please, go on ahead...!"

Greg grinned and quickly grabbed his shirt by the hems, meaning to pull it over his head. But his shirt stuck to his chest and caught just over his head. He wriggled, trying to get out of it, but the wet fabric chose not to cooperate.  
"Molly?" he asked, his voice muffled by the fabric, "Can you, erm, give me a hand?"

Molly chuckled lightly and blushed when she caught herself observing Greg's bare chest a bit too long before helping. "Yes, yes, I can. Sorry!" She pulled up on the wet cloth, prying it away from his face.

Greg sighed from relief as soon as the wet fabric left his body but shivered even more when the air hit his skin. He felt goosebumps rising and quickly dried himself as well as he could with the pink towel before wrapping the blanket tightly around him. He sank down on the sofa and looked at Molly, a hint of a smile playing around his mouth. His wet, blue shirt lay forgotten on the floor.

A shy smile tugged at Molly's lips. "Are you comfortable now? I'm sorry, but it's a bit boring here at my flat... Just me and Ol' Toby! Oh, gosh! I should probably let him out of his room. He's been in it all night..." Molly raised a finger up and mouthed "one minute" at him before rushing off to let Toby out of the second bedroom. "Oh, Toby, you poor dear! I'm sorry! I forgot all about you...!" She moaned out softly as she picked him up, stroking his long fur. He growled a bit, upset at being disturbed but allowed her to pet him and carry him out to the living room. Talking to Greg, she set the cat down on the floor in the kitchen. "I hope you don't mind..."

"I don't mind, but I am more of a dog person, I think." Greg sipped from his tea, savouring the warmth that pulsed through him, and he closed his eyes for a second. "You promised me to see him in a scarf, though," he added thoughtfully, with a grin, as he opened his eyes again. His mug was empty, so he put it back on the table.

"I think he's a bit crabby... Maybe next time?" She knelt down and pet the cat, hoping to coax him into being social.

"Molls, your tea is getting cold," Greg said, while he snuggled deeper in his blanket. The warmth pooled around him, and the events that happened in the rain outside, a half an hour ago, seemed to belong to a distant past. "Molly, just checking, but, erm... Did we really dance in the rain, in the middle of the street?" Greg asked.

"Oh, that's fine. Usually the tea is a bit too hot for me straight from the kettle. I like to let it sit for a while, and, um, yes, uh, we did dance in the rain." Molly gave a high-pitched giggle at the ridiculousness of the situation. She made her way back to the sitting room and stood awkwardly behind Lestrade and the couch. "Um, would you like to watch some telly or something? I have a bunch of movies..."

Greg followed Molly with his eyes, and when she disappeared behind him, he tilted his head until he saw her standing there upside down. He shot her a crooked smile and nodded. "Sounds like a goo-hoo-atschoo!" He sniffed and grinned. "What I was trying to say is that that sounds like a great idea. What films do you have?"

"I'm a bit of a movie fanatic and don't stick to a particular genre... What kind would you like to watch...?" Resting her arms on the couch behind him, her hand sitting in her hand, she gestured with her other to her collection of DVDs along the wall by the telly.

Greg leaned his head back so he looked Molly in the eyes, albeit upside down. He smiled at her, and, suddenly, all the air was pushed out of his lungs. He gasped and swallowed. Blinking twice, he forced a grin and got up quickly to take a better look at Moll's film collection. He fished a film from among the others and showed it to her. "Fancy some James Bond?"

Molly made a slight face; she really didn't know why she had that movie... But Greg wanted to see it, and, well, maybe watching it with him would make it better. "Yeah. Sure. Why not?" She said with a smile as she walked around to sit on the sofa.

"Great!" Greg beamed, he loved James Bond, especially _Casino Royale_. "It has such a clever plot," he said. "My ex-wife never allowed me to watch it, so I often had to make up an excuse to go to a friend's. But that's been ages." He laughed softly and looked at Molly. "I'm glad you like Bond too, we have more in common than I thought!"

Molly giggled awkwardly and looked away. Oh gosh. She'd misled him... At least it was only over a movie and not something serious. "Actually, ah, I don't even know why I have it... Heh. It's a good movie, but not quite my..."

Greg's face fell just the slightest. He tried to cover it up by grinning and saying, "If you don't want to watch it, that's fine. I like many kinds of films, really. Which one do you truly like then? Perhaps I don't know that one." He felt a bit guilty over forcing a film on her

"Oh, no no no! I don't mind watching it, Greg,_ really!_" She said with a smile—an almost honest one. "It's not one of my favorites, of course, but that doesn't mean we can't watch it. Put it in. Please." Molly gestured to the telly and DVD player. "I don't mind."

Greg's eyes scanned Molly's face carefully. "Okay," he finally said, a soft smile gracing his feautures. "On one condition." Suddenly serious, he looked Molly straight in her eyes and said softly, "I will put this DVD on, if you promise to go and have some coffee with me, and a nice film afterwards."  
_Oh, please, say yes. Say yes! I haven't been too straight forward, have I? Have I misread the signs? Please, say yes! _Greg bit his lip, taking in every little twitch in Molly's face.

Biting her lip, she thought about it. Was he asking her out on a _date?_ If she said yes, she'd be getting into something she wasn't too certain she wanted to. Dating implied a potential relationship... With a man with kids... Did she want that responsibility? "I will have to think about it, Greg. Let's just watch the show."

Oh. "Yes, of course. Sorry," he stuttered, getting to his feet to put the DVD on. Shite, he had gone too far. Well, it was a long-shot anyway. He flopped down on the sofa next to Molly and handed her the remote.


End file.
